


A Short Tale

by Claire



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-05
Updated: 2005-06-05
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: "Merchants and traders usually travel with two bodyguards and a body servant. And since they tagged Ford and Teyla as warriors..."





	A Short Tale

Elizabeth Weir had to blink to make sure she was definitely seeing what she thought she was seeing. Heading down the steps to the team that had just come through the Stargate, Liz ignored the whispered murmurs of all the people in the Gate room, knowing that the mission report for this was one she was looking forward to reading.

"Major, I take it things didn't go exactly to plan," she said, when she finally reached John Sheppard.

"You could say that," the Major replied, neither of them looking over to where Rodney McKay was standing, back rigidly straight and only wearing what appeared to be a tiny pair of leather shorts and Major Sheppard's jacket.

*

Elizabeth put the mission report on the table in front of her. "Body servant?" she said, closing her eyes to get the image of Rodney McKay storming out of the Gate Room from her head.

Sheppard nodded. "Merchants and traders usually travel with two bodyguards and a body servant. And since they tagged Ford and Teyla as warriors..." Sheppard waved a hand in the air, leaving Liz to fill in the blanks.

"That left Rodney," she surmised. Left Rodney as the Major's body servant in a society where it was apparently a great offence for body servants to wear any clothes other than those shorts Rodney had come back in.

Sheppard shrugged. "No harm done. Once we explained, they were so horrified at their mistake that we got a pretty good deal out of it."

"And Dr McKay?"

Sheppard just grinned. "Leave McKay to me."

*

John knocked on the door to Rodney's lab, ignoring the yelled "Go away," and walking inside.

"I said 'Go away,' or are you deaf as well as stupid..." Rodney's voice trailed off as he looked up from his laptop. "Major. I might have known."

"Rodney," John smiled as he leaned against Rodney's desk. "How's it going?"

Rodney rolled his eyes as he leant back in his seat and glared at John. "You know fine well how it's going, Major. You couldn't _not_ know how it's going."

John winced slightly at the tone. "That good, huh?"

"Oh, better," snapped Rodney. "I've been working on the power conversion problem, and I'm no closer to a solution than I was a week ago; Kavanagh has managed to lock down a third of the city's transporters doing god knows what god knows where; and to top it all, some complete strangers decided I'm _your_ sex slave, destroy my clothes and dress me in a pair of leather shorts so small they wouldn't have fitted one of Carson's mice! Yes, Major, it's going just fine!"

"It was a misunderstanding, Rodney."

"A misunderstanding that left me manhandled and pretty much naked," Rodney said. "This doesn't rank highly on my scale of forgivable, Major."

"Manhandled?"

Rodney looked at him, the glare in the blue eyes questioning John's intelligence. "Just how do you think they got me to wear those shorts, Major. It wasn't because they asked nicely."

John hadn't thought about it. Hadn't thought about the embarrassed flush over Rodney's body as he'd stood in front of John wearing barely enough leather to cover his modesty. He'd been too busy trying to control the blood that insisted on rushing to his dick to think about much of anything.

"Next time a team has to go to Bespin-"

"Bespa."

"Whatever," Rodney waved off the correction. "Next time, Kavanagh gets sent."

John met Rodney's eyes as the mental image of Kavanagh in leather shorts crossed his mind. The same image was obviously in Rodney's head as well, as both of them shuddered in tandem.

"Maybe not," Rodney admitted.

Silence reigned as the ghost of a naked Kavanagh gently drifted away.

"We got coffee," offered John. And even if it wasn't actual coffee it was near enough as to make no difference. Especially since the last of the real coffee had been used nearly a month earlier.

Rodney sighed happily. "That we did."

"So, maybe it was a little worth it?" tried John.

Rodney glanced at him for long moments. "Maybe a little," he finally admitted.

John grinned as he pushed himself away from the desk. "Oh," he said, "one more thing, Rodney?"

"Yes?" Rodney looked back up from the computer screen, slight annoyance written on his features.

"What did you do with the shorts?" John asked lightly.

"They're still in the corner of my quarters where I left them." Rodney's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

John moved forward, pressing his lips firmly to Rodney's, tongue sliding inside Rodney's mouth once before he pulled away. "I'll be at yours after the briefing tonight. Make sure you're wearing them."

Without giving Rodney a chance to reply, John walked out of the room, knowing the glazed look of surprised lust on Rodney's face would carry him through the briefing he had to sit through with Weir and Bates. Carefully adjusting his half-hard cock to make it easier to walk, John grinned, and started to whistle.


End file.
